


Lust Among the Ruins

by sphinxvictorian



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxvictorian/pseuds/sphinxvictorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place a little after Methuselah's Gift.  Amanda and Methos, a Swiss hotel, and a couple of unhappy hearts make for strange bedfellows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust Among the Ruins

Amanda pulled into the parking lot of the Hotel St. Pierre. She knew she was hoping for some retreat in this small Swiss town, but what was she retreating from?

She wasn’t completely sure but it had something to do with Mr. Boy Scout of the puppy-dog eyes and Scots burr. She had left Paris to get her feet under her, to feel like her old chaotic thieving self again. Rebecca was gone now, their friendship and love a memory closed inside the crystal round her neck. Duncan was all she had left in the world, the only one who cared for her, and the only one she cared for.

So she’d run away, feeling trapped and in need of some solitude and some thinking time. Besides, she thought wickedly, she’d heard that lots of incredibly wealthy people came to this hotel, so the pickings could be lush. Somehow, that thought didn’t make her as happy as it would have a few years ago.

She pulled her bags out of the trunk and went in to claim her reservation.

She had signed the register and was heading for her room, when the familiar painful sensation indicated the presence of her own kind. She turned quickly but there was no one behind her. To her right was a closed elevator door, its car on the sixth floor. To her left was the open door that led to the hotel bar. She should have fled for the stairs but her feline curiosity got the better of her, drawing her into the bar to look for the source.

A familiar lean figure was sitting on a stool at the bar, a cold beer at his elbow, his head sunk low.

She went closer.

“Adam? Is that you?”

His head raised a little and turned to look over his shoulder, through wary eyes. The face was more hollow, and there was an uncharacteristic growth of stubble on the usually well-groomed cheeks and chin. Catching sight of her he shrugged, a bitter smile barely touching his lips.

“Amanda. Surprise, surprise. Just the person I needed not to see.”

“I can go away,” she offered, a little hurt. She had thought Methos had forgiven all that unpleasantness over the Methuselah stone. Maybe he was just inordinately grumpy.

“No, sit down, have a beer. Don’t worry, I won’t cry in it.”

Amanda looked closer at him. He really did look as though he might break down any minute, his eyes were reddened and his sarcastic look had a bleaker than usual tinge to it.

She plopped her bag down and slid on to the stool next to him. She ordered a glass of wine.

“Not to be unfriendly, Adam, I just don’t like beer that much.”

He shrugged, taking a mournful swig off the bottle at his elbow.

“So, Adam, why so mournful—“ She stopped herself. “Oh, no, Alexa?”

He nodded mutely.

“Oh, god, Adam, I’m so sorry—“

“Save it, Amanda!” he snarled. “Sorrow does neither her nor I any good. You never even met her, you don’t know how I feel, so just drop it, okay?”

She bit back a nasty response. He’s grieving, he has a right to his anger, she told herself.

“Right, I’ll just sit here then and finish my wine, Adam, and when I’m finished, I’ll go to my room and you can be alone.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

“Great.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

She proceeded to slowly drink her wine and not say a word. When she finished, she signed the tab, and taking a cocktail napkin from a pile on the bar, she wrote down her room number. She placed it gently in front of Methos and left the bar.

She went upstairs to her room then. She took off her shoes, stashed her sword and raincoat in the wardrobe and did some stretching. Then she ordered some fruit, cheese and wine from room service. When it arrived, she curled up on the divan and nibbled, meditating on the encounter with Methos.

She felt sorry for him, yes, but why had she given him her room number? What earthly use did she think she could be to him, as screwed up as she was herself? She had loved and lost, but never as he had. She had mostly stayed away from mortals, only lusting after a few girls in the Sultan’s harem, and then there was the time she got arrested as a spy in the English Civil War, dressed in man’s clothes, and had a fling with her jailer (why he hadn’t figured out she was a woman, she never would know). But she had never fallen in love with a mortal. The only man she had ever loved was in Paris on a barge, probably polishing his antiques, if he was not busy lopping off a villain’s head. She feared his death, but she did not know how she would feel when he was gone. How could she?

Poor Methos, what should she say to him if he did come? “You’ll forget her, Methos, don’t worry, there’s other mortals in the sea?” A lot of good that would do him. She told herself he wouldn’t come anyway, he’d never liked her that much. Not his type really, too flighty or something.

The familiar painful signal interrupted her thoughts. She grabbed her sword out of the wardrobe, just in case, and went to the door.

“Amanda? It’s Adam.”

She opened the door.

“Good of you to trust me,” he said, eyeing the sword in her hand.

“One never knows, darling, you could have been anyone.” She stepped aside. “Come in, Adam.”

“So does Duncan know you’re here?” he asked, moving past her into the room.

She closed the door and followed, laying her sword on the bed.

“No, why should he? He’s not my keeper, Methos,” she snapped.

“Could have fooled me.” He shrugged. “So why are you here then?” He slumped on to the divan, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

She picked up her wine glass and sipped from it, seating herself nonchalantly on the divan next to him.

“No great mystery, Methos. I’m on vacation. A little getaway. A girl needs that for her health every now and then, you know.” She sent him one of her little coquettish glances, lost on him, she realized too late.

“Your health?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Mental health, my dear. So now you know why I’m here.”

A silence fell between them, slightly awkward. They had not been alone that often, and they were unsure of each other’s feelings.

“Look, Methos, I’m sorry about downstairs, I’m an awful clod when it comes to other people’s suffering, I’m just not a very good listener, I guess.”

“Forget it, Amanda. I guess I’m not myself yet, it’s only been three months.”

“I think I can at least guess how you’re feeling, I know I would be devastated if Duncan were to—“ She stopped, not able to bring herself to even say the words.

“Yeah I know. So you do love him then?”

She got up and went to the window.

“I guess so, I don’t know, I’m not sure it’s what I want, Methos.”

“We don’t get a choice of who we love, Amanda. I just learned that lesson.”

He moved to stand next to her at the window, looking out at the newly risen half-moon.

“So you’re saying I should stop running and take what I’ve got?”

“I don’t know, Amanda. Don’t listen to me.”

He went back to the table and picked up a piece of cheese, wolfing it down. He refilled her wine glass. She found herself watching intently as his lips touched the glass just where hers had left a trace of lipstick. A tiny frisson of excitement shuddered up her spine, unsettling her so that she turned away to the window again.

She said, “I only thought you might know, since you loved a mortal as much as Duncan loved Tessa. Would you waste your time with a silly little thief like me?”

He was silent behind her, so that she thought he might not answer.

Then he spoke in almost a whisper, “If I thought you loved me, and if I’d known you as long as Duncan has, then yes, possibly, I might.”

“Oh, Methos—“

Amanda leaned her head against the cool glass as long-unshed tears slid down her cheeks.

She felt two hands on her shoulders and she turned into his arms, sobbing against the scratchy wool of his sweater. He held her close, saying nothing. Hot tears mingled with her own and she felt his body shaking. They clung together, each mourning for their own reason.

She subsided first, and pulled back a little, kissing his cheek as he gained control over himself.

She went to the bathroom and pulled a tissue out of the box for each of them, and brought it back to him. They blew their noses in tandem.

She threw a companionable arm around his shoulder.

“Come on, old man, let’s finish this bottle and get another.”

 

Methos half awoke the next morning with his cheek against something silky. “Alexa,” he murmured, snuggling against the softness beneath the silk.

“Duncan—“

Methos came fully awake and sat up, looking down at Amanda, who was also now awake and clutching the sheets up to her chin.

“That was close,” he said, springing up off the bed and away from her warmth and softness.

“Never in a million years, Methos my lad,” Amanda retorted, her head high. But her eyes were wide and he knew their proximity had unsettled her as much as it had him. He stepped back and nearly tripped on the empty wine bottle from the night before.

“Ah, the culprit. Dangerous stuff.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Right, Methos, it’s been swell and grand, but now I want to be alone with my thoughts as I’m sure you do, and we can just forget that this little episode happened, right?” Amanda was speaking too quickly, trying not to think too much about what could have happened.

“Wait a minute, are you telling me you, of all people, are embarrassed about a man spending the night in your bed, especially when it was by mistake?”

Amanda arched an eyebrow. “I have a reputation to maintain, Methos, I wouldn’t want it to get out that nothing happened, you see. I could never hold my head up again.” She smiled, silkily.

“You could always lie and say it did. I’d back you up, I promise.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” She turned and went into the bathroom, turning back to continue, “ You can see yourself out, I’m sure.”

“You know, something could have happened, it’s not so far-fetched.”

“Methos, I like you, but I am not even remotely attracted to you, so, yes, it is far-fetched. You’re not my type.”

He came very close. “Are you so sure?” he murmured, his breath caressing her face.

She stepped back, involuntarily, and her voice was a little shaky as she said, “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re not my type. You’re arrogant, self-centered, and besides you’re too old for me.”

He stepped into the bathroom after her. He was enjoying this, for some reason. Where was he going with it, though, she wondered. They were completely mismatched.

“What’s age got to do with it? Haven’t you ever wondered, Amanda, how we would be together? Just once, no strings, no love, just pure sex.” He put a hand out to touch her face, she started to slap it away, but found herself relaxing into it for a moment. He came closer.

She started to protest again, but he put a finger on her lips, and drew her back out into the room, and over to the bed. He pulled her close to him and held her there against him. She knew she should stop this, but she didn’t really want to, suddenly. She was feeling vulnerable and so was he. Maybe he needed this as much as she did. She looked into his eyes and caught her breath at the pain behind them. She pulled his head down and kissed him gently. He deepened the kiss quickly and soon they fell across the bed. She fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans, then pulled up her skirt and pushed her underwear down and off.

Meanwhile, he had loosened her bra and was hungrily suckling her breasts. She pushed down his jeans and boxers and felt his cock spring free under her hand. He gasped against her and they fell to the bed together. He rolled her underneath him. His finger stroked her clit, and then slipped down and inside her for a moment, then out again, to be replaced by his full cock. He remained still inside her for a moment, then he began to move first gently and then rougher and rougher, until she thought he might drive them both through the mattress. She clung to him with one arm, while she stroked herself with her own finger.

He climaxed first, Amanda following soon after. He pulled out as soon as he was done, collapsing alongside her facedown on the bed. He didn’t move for a moment, and then Amanda noticed his shoulders were shaking. She pulled the blankets up over both of them and put her arm across his back and snuggled against him.

It had been better than she thought, but not as good as Duncan. Would any man ever satisfy her again, the way he did? Or any woman, for that matter? No, because there was real love in their lovemaking and there always had been, right from the first time. She couldn’t believe it. She lay there, basking in this thought, as Methos quieted into sleep. Soon she fell asleep to dream of her knight in white armor.

 

Amanda woke, suddenly cold. The bed was empty, but the bathroom door was closed and she could hear the shower. She lay there a moment, a little stunned at the morning’s events. What had happened? It wasn’t serious whatever it was, but it had been wonderful, more so than she would have thought a few hours ago. But Methos! She would never have thought that she and he would – impossible! An unfamiliar twinge in her gut startled her. What would she tell Duncan? Would she even dare to tell him? He would be livid. Methos was in a vulnerable state, he’d say. He would be sure to blame her. She wouldn't tell him, that’s all. He didn’t need to know, it wasn’t going to happen again, for goodness’ sake! She would swear Methos to secrecy and it would all be fine.

Just then the bathroom door opened and Methos stood there, drying his hair, in his boxers. He gave her one sheepish grin and then headed for his clothes.

She dove into her bag for her robe and pulled it on.

“Are you okay with this, Methos? You don’t feel guilty or anything?”

“No, not guilty, Amanda. Sad, yes. But I’ve been around too long to feel guilty about anything anymore. What about you?”

“A few pangs, I must admit. Who knows, maybe Duncan wouldn’t care, but I’m not going to find out. And don’t you tell him either.”

He looked disgusted for a moment at the idea. “As if I would. ‘Oh, yeah, Duncan, by the way, I fucked Amanda last spring in Switzerland, right after Alexa died.’ I have my own honor to protect, you know.”

“Wonderful, darling, then we understand that it will never happen again, and I will remember it always as the morning I fucked a 5000-year old man,” she retorted, feeling slightly hurt at his tone.

She flashed him a brilliantly fake smile, and went to take her own shower. She assumed he would be gone when she came out, so she came out without her bathrobe. He was still sitting there on the couch, in only his jeans. He stood up, his eyes frankly admiring.

“Well, at least, I now know what Duncan sees in you, besides that girlish charm.” His tone was actually warm and genuine.

She smiled uncertainly and began to get dressed.

“Look, Amanda, I was harsh just now, I’m sorry.”

“No, please, Methos, forget about it. It’s in the past, all done, you and I can go on with our lives and not think about this morning as long as we live, which hopefully may be a while yet."

He came to sit on the bed next to her, where she was slipping on her shirt.

“But I don’t want to forget it Amanda. We enjoyed it, we both did.”

“So? Methos, I don’t love you, I love Duncan, and this will never happen again.”

“But why does that mean we should forget it? I need all the happy memories I can get, Amanda. Five thousand years, and most of it is unhappy, leave me a little pleasure, can’t you?”

She kissed his cheek. “Sorry, of course, you’re right. I won’t forget either, but I just don’t want it broadcast around, okay?”

“Your wish is my command. You want some lunch?”

“Okay, but then I am taking the rest of the week to myself, right?”

“Absolutely, we won’t even know that we’re at the same hotel.”

Somehow Amanda doubted that.


End file.
